Well! I guess I should try updating this every once in a while. but for the most part, it’s all groovy tuesday, and screw the bunch of you that hate that saying. You wanna know why? cause it’s all groovesteak. don’t know what that means? it means it’s MIDGET TIME! that just means you bring your midget friend to work and just… you know… work. Pretty simple. Plus, it’s fun for him. i don’t know why, it just is. i guess it really depends on the social development and mental growth of the midget in question, but beyond the psychological and physical aspects of those within the little person community being surround by… I want to say big person? buuuut I won’t, anyways, depending on those two or three factors as well as the personal preferences of said midget friend, you just might get head butted in the crotch, because that might better than getting uppercutted in the crotch by a little dude who’s a black belt. Seriously! 


almost said HADOKEN! but that’s a fireball move for Ryu in the street fighter series. Always loved that game. But i guess the Hadoken + Falcon PAUNCH would equate to a bad assed move called “Falcon PAUNCH HADOKEN!” and you combine Captain Falcon with Ryu Hoshi, you melt faces, cause gushers, and essentially become GOD of bad assery all around. In fact, I’d like to name my firstborn son, “Captain Ryu ‘Falcon’ Hoshi” and teach him at a young age the awesome and face paunching move “Falcon… Paunch…. HAAAADOOOOKEN!” Pronounced exactly like that. 


Let’s see bullies take that little guy on in schooling years. Teach him some ninjistu, ninja puppetry, nunchaku, sword arts, and buy him a replica Buster Sword from Final Fantasy 7. Fuck it, buy him two, teach him dual weilding and acrobatics, and watching him get laid 29/8/764. That’s right! My kid’ll be too awesome for regular time, they’ll invent a new form of time just for him! MWA HA HA HA HA! “Falcon Paunch HADOKEN!”


If only… What was I writing about? Hard to focus on a topic when there’s a movie about problematic turbulence in a single mothers life when she lies about having a kid to impress a guy and… I blanked out for t he rest ofi t beyond that point. also, yesterday, I was walking and I thought I’d lost about thirty minutes of time and was on peach, but it turns out I blanked for ten seconds and was still on Jacaranda..


So much for that idea panning otu greatly. also, i’ve not really spent much time on prepping myself for the eventual retaking of the ASVAB, but I keep telling myself and the greater heights I fly, the more people I get to crap on if I were a pidgeon. SERIOUSLY! Do pidgeons crap on command? DO THEY!? Or projectile crapping. Get a Projectile Crapping pidgeon for my kid, Captain Ryu ‘Falcon’ Hoshi, and every teach that bird how to projectile crap in the direction my kids pointing on the word HADOKEN!  LMAO! 


i’m hyper. Not drunk. If this were a drunk note, there’d be more celeb jokes and hating on teen fads that boggle the mind beyond reasoning. I think that’s the only reason I do it actually, I think it comes from a naturally occurring trust issue with current trends and thinking they’ll only last for a certain amount of times. Most trends do because of the influence that celebs, politicians, and various other factors have on our kids. For example:


Niki “Technicolor hair style” Minage can be attributed to the developement of the Scene Kids Subculture, mainly that the influence to make their hair styles more trippy than a Acid trip while watching an episode of the !rst generation Power Rangers through a fragmented lens, comes from her outrageous hairstyle and attitude. 


how the crap did she manage to get famous again? Screaming at people? Seems like it now a days. also, i’d like to touch on the subject of our once epic societies gradual decline into a place where we have to feel sorry for saying the slightest thing that irkes the anal retentive cross sections of our species the wrong ways. I’d like to attribute this little thing to the fact that I consider some sections of our society as “Opinion Oppressionist”, meaning that if somebody famous decides to say screw all this noise and just riff the hell out of something long enough, eventually somebody with a bit too thin skin is going to make some noise about it.


and while that’s all good and nice and fun, there are certain topics (Gay Marriage, Womens right to choose what to do with the baby, the the ever increasing “Opinion Oppressionist” cross section that seems to be growing and their thoughts that “You can’t say that, not while I’M watching!” is the right way to do things. Ect.)  that need to be discussed without some idiot sticking their fingers in their ears, closing their eyes, and holding their breath while thinking the subject will change before they die of… well, not breathing.


It’s kinda weird how these notes fall into place. the first half is just random crap flowing from my mind, and the second half is somewhat intellectual discussion about our ever changing society. Orrrrrr could be that I need more coffee. Well, off to stare at the screen for five minutes, find some stupid thing to stare at for another five minutes, and then repeatedly bash my face into the keyboard and produce a weirdly readable note. 


“Class, this is Captain Ryu ‘Falcon’ Hoshi Gavin”




My brains on FIAH!

Okay… So the Oscars are coming up,m and like everyone else wwith a more fucked up pulse than that of either Charly Sheen, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards,, or even god forbid R, I despise the ego stroke fest that it has become. It’s a testament of time when you consider that all the big hitters of these years have been movies that take our favorite movie monsters, and turn them into simpering, whiny, emotionally damaged versions that only appeal to twelve year old girls, scenemo kids with more brightly colored hair than any one of the Beatles acid trips, lonely house wives, or Glenn Beck., Because honestly, most characters tearful cries for help arem ore real than one fat cell on that fuck nuts body.

but I’m getting behind myself, because myself is waiting for the big one. And by big one, I’m talking whatever hatred decides to spring up today. So What should spur my ranting more than ego stroking Oscar statues? Emozombies. Glampires. Wherethefuck wolves. And Snookie. I fucking Hate Snookie. Or is it snicker? I can’t tell the difference now and Day because I’ve been awesome at catching things that fucking annoy the hell out of me worse then a David Crosby reunion.

Because David Crosby isn’t a band. He’s a Quadruple Amputy with less forgiveness than a horde of midgets hanging out on the set of Wizard of Oz. And that shit just fucking rocks no matter who the shit you think you are. I’m not really sure if I’m trying to kill the old “Ripping hollywood A New One” Post, but apparently, It’s working.

Back to things that Anger me. Pageant mothers. Dance Mothers. Drama Parents who force their own broken dreams down their already emotionall deranged kids throats in an attempt to make them “Listen” and “Behave” in a way that makes them think that its normal to Falcon Paunch a fat kid and expect little ripples on his flab to form. 

Yes, I used “Paunch” Instead of “Punch”! Why!? WHY DO YOU QUESTION THAT WHICH YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT! FALCON….. PAAAAUUUUNCH! On a sidenote, I almost put Nipples instead of Rippkles. which, in hindsight, would’ve been fucking hysterical, because nipples forming on a fat mans flab from Falcon Paunching him in the side would be the MOST epic jump in evolution ever.

I just forcefully farted. No! *Dramatic Pose* I…. FALCON FAAAAAAUUUUGHTED! Doesn’t have the same effect. Seriously though. I find that all awards shows are based on the whole basis of “Ha! I have a shiny thing and you don’t!” Premise. 

Also, I will not fall into the “I’mma make myself look weak while exerting my power over you!” Thing because fuck you, that’s why. I’m not going top pull any punches today, I’m irritated because I was watching a bootleg of “Warm Bodies” And expected Zombinja fights out a giants ass that was both ON fire and shooting fire out of its nose! Instead, I got a negaverse version of Romeo and Juliet, once again tailored to the tweenaged girls of the world. WHY DO THEY RUIN OUR FAVORITE MONSTERS!?

Before I go any further, I’d like to vent my hidden frustration Nuke on a very personal subject. 

Crazy Women. More than that, Crazeh Single women in the high desert. There are a lot of these creatures out there. i love em to death, and hope to one day trap a speciment for experiments involving dinner, movies, and ravaging love making that’d make even Zeus, Toony Danza, and Spongebob shit out their manliness in the ever present trauma that, fuck yeah, I tore them apart.

I don’t know why, but my profile picture kinda looks like a mutated vagina. But… Yeah, Fuck the Oscars.

Somedays are better than others.

I can’t stand it. I pretend to, but I’m just too frayed at the nerves to do it anymore. I hate living here. Not just in the high desert, but with these people. One person especially. Everyday, every single one of the past four days, I’ve grown to hate that person just a little bit more. Grown to not respect them just a bit everyday. I am tired of pretending to care about their problems as if they were my own. Their voice is a grating sound that become vicious, spiteful, controlling, and full of unwarranted paranioa.

There are times when she’s talking… Shouting about something to me, that I don’t listen passed the second or third thing she says. I’m a nice man by nature, really, I am. But I’ve stopped being fearful of her scorn, if you can call it that. Though there are days when it gets to be too much, that she takes offence at the littlest thing, where even my patience is broken. I shout back, she gets louder, I get louder, she gets in my face, and just from reflex I flinch, just a little bit.

For some reason, she takes this as aggression towards her and snaps at me. After which, I just stare blankly back into her pupils till she breaks eye contact.

I don’t know how much more of this stress I can take. She’s angry about something almost everyday, mostly my fault, but it’s gotten to the point where I just avoid her when I can.

Avoid the source of stress and you’ll be happy. Hard to do when you start the day off happy and by the end of it you want to scream your fucking head off. But I stay quiet, calm, cheerful till I’m alone. Then, and only then, do I let all the stress pour in and take it all in one nasty gulp of sour dissappointment.

Thats it for now. More later.

%d bloggers like this: